I wake up again in the middle of the night, this time from an sms. I forgot to switch off my cell phone. I thought it could be from Reiner, but it is from someone called Mister Lupus. His name is not Lupus, but this is how I call him. He is someone from another life, another century, even millenium before our era, someone I met when I was living in another country, had another home and another friends. The message says “Dobze”. It is in Polish. Mister Lupus ir not Polish, he has nothing to do with Poland, but it used to be our special greating. I stare at it. It is 4am and knowing mister Lupus he must be in some nightclub at this time. I struggle with the temptation to send him back “Dobze” – it’s like how do you do? – how do you do, it was how we always started to communicate, but I can not remember his face.  Neither what did he wear. He used to be alive, now his is a ghost. Almost like everyone else.



About isabelle

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